Queen of Hearts
by Treehilldreams
Summary: He locks eyes with her, and in a moment of recognition he see's the girl she once was to him. He remembers that there was once a time when things were different between them. He remembers what they used to be. BL
1. Chapter 1

Hey everyone! It's been forever since the last time I wrote something, so forgive me if I'm a bit rusty. To be honest, I'm still exploring my options with this story. I've got some ideas for which direction I'm going to take this in, but if any of you have any suggestions, I'll be glad to take them. I had the worst case of writer's block when I wrote this first chapter, so any help would be much appreciated. Please review and let me know what you think, good, bad, or somewhere in between! I'm not sure yet how long it will be, but bare with me, because I promise I'll figure it out soon enough! Thanks!

Disclaimer: Don't own OTH, characters, names, or story-lines.

**Queen of Hearts**

When he was a child, no older than his nephew's age, his mother used to take him to the carnival whenever it visited Tree Hill. The bright lights, the sounds of the rides and the laughter of those who rode upon them, the bitter yet sweet taste of the blue cotton candy that always stuck to the sides of his mouth- he can remember all of it as clearly as if it were yesterday. It was a time in his life when everything was simple. Easy. Now, he's not so sure what easy is.

The sound of an airline attendant announcing flight times echoes throughout the airport, but the words are lost in the drift of the constantly moving crowd. Voices, sounds, people. A man is tapping him on the shoulder, asking if he can move his suitcase off the chair next to him so his wife can sit down. But he doesn't feel it, and he doesn't hear the question.

He thinks of the carousel, his favorite carnival ride. He always rode the black horse with the golden reins every year, and as the ride gained momentum, the people and sounds and surrounding objects all became a blur. That part of the ride reminds him of how his life is now.

The music would play, and the black horse would slowly swivel up and down the pole, carrying him on the ride of his life. For the two minutes and 30 seconds that he rode that carousel, the rest of the world vanished. Nothing else mattered.

At the moment, he'd give anything to have that feeling again.

He blinks, and the thoughts of the carousel dissapear as he comes back to reality. Someone is shaking him.

"Hey, do you think you can wake up for a moment to move your suitcase?" an angry voice asks.

Lucas looks up into the face of a random stranger, and he wonders why he'd spent so much time thinking about a _carousel._ That was probably why it took him so long to write his second book. He was always daydreaming.

With a quick look at the suitcase sitting on the chair next to him, Lucas quickly shakes his head.

"No, I'm saving that chair for someone. Sorry."

The man narrows his eyes, but seconds later he's gone, leaving Lucas alone once again. He glances at the chair next to him, and then looks at the two tickets placed firmly within his left hand. He's got an empty seat next to him, and an extra ticket to a flight leaving for Las Vegas in less than an hour. He's ready to get out of this place, to escape the drama that always seems to follow him around in Tree Hill.

His only problem is that he doesn't know who to take with him.

It's strange, he thinks, how the past always finds a route back to the present. The situation he's in right now is all too familiar to him. The only change is that a different girl is thrown into the mix.

It always used to be Peyton and Brooke. He was never able to choose between the two girls. After what seemed like a lifetime of heartbreak and confusion, he finally chose. He can still see the rainfall of confetti, hear the generous applause from the crowd, and feel the hope of a state championship finally secured. He had never been so _sure _of his love for another person. For the first time in his life, he felt that the answer was right in front of him, and he was positive that he knew what he wanted.

Two years later, he found himself bending on one knee, proposing to a girl that wasn't ready to accept him. Peyton Sawyer was supposed to be the one.

And now, another two years later, the situation is still the same, except he's found a new person to drag into the mess that has become his life. He'd gone down on one knee once again. This time, the one he proposed to had said yes. He had even made it to the alter. But history had repeated itself, because the girl he loved wasn't ready to accept him. Once again, like so many times in the past, Lucas Scott didn't know what he wanted, and Lindsay understood that now more than anyone.

It was never his intention to hurt anyone, but it seemed to be a trend for him to break hearts. Peyton, Lindsay, and even Brooke. All girls he had at one point, sometimes even at the same time, fallen in love with.

After all was said and done, after the proposals, the "I love you's," and the almost marriages, Lucas Scott was left alone. He didn't know who or what he wanted anymore. He was a grown man, and instead of moving forward, he was standing knee deep in the same situation he'd been in during high school. The only answer he had left was to leave.

A distant memory of the last time he'd planned to leave Tree Hill surfaces in the back of his mind, and for a moment the sounds of the bustling crowd become nothing more than a whisper, and he can faintly visualize his teenage self sitting on a bed next to his mother, preparing to run away. Because that's what Lucas Scott does when things get tough. He runs away.

_"You all set?" _

_Lucas lifted his head to see his mother standing in his doorway, a sad smile gracing her face. He felt a sharp pang of guilt as he stared at her, because she was just another person added on to the long list of people he had hurt in the past few months. _

_"Yeah, almost," he replied as he folded a worn grey shirt and placed it into his duffel. _

_He quickly eyed his room, the place he had lived in since he was born. It looked completely different. The walls were bare except for a fading shade of chipped blue paint, and all of his drawers were empty. The only thing left was a small picture laying on his desk. Three people stood in the picture, smiling and laughing. In his arms was a brunette with a dimpled smiled, and next to them stood a curly haired blonde. _

_It was just another thing he planned to leave behind. _

_He couldn't stand to live in the only place he'd ever known any longer. Less than a year ago, if someone were to tell him that he would soon cheat on his girlfriend with none other than her best friend, he would have laughed at them. Lucas Scott was a man of virtue and honesty. He was, by no means, a cheater. At least that's what he would have told himself in the past._

_The faces of those he'd hurt haunted him every day, and he couldn't bare to see that he was the cause of their pain any longer. So he was doing the only thing left to do._

_He was leaving Tree Hill, hopefully for good. _

_"Come here, I wanna talk to you for a minute," his mom said, and she gently settled herself onto his bed._

_He noticed that her eyes were already beginning to fill with tears as he slowly lowered himself next to her._

_"I know you're searching for things, Lucas," she said, her face an image of sincerity and love, and he knew she was trying her hardest not to beg him to stay. "And I hope with all my heart that you find the answers to your questions. But the answers that you're looking for are closer than you think. They're in your heart, and in the hearts of those who love you, and that is right here, at home," she continued, nodding her head as if to convince him of what she was saying. _

_He couldn't look her in the eye, because everything in him was saying that she was wrong. He didn't deserve anyone's love. He had hurt the ones that he cared for the very most. Brooke and Peyton, his mother, even Haley. He didn't deserve to stay here and be with them after all that he had done._

_"In your life, you're going to go to some great places and do some wonderful things, but no matter where you go or who you become, this place will always be with you."_

_He nodded his head, and prayed that the tears forming in his eyes would go away. His mother moved closer to him and took him in his arms, her hands gently caressing his back, and he hoped that she could forgive him for the mistakes he had made. Life was so easy at the rivercourt, before he had known of the two girls whose friendship he would eventually destroy, the brother he would come to love, and the team he'd become a part of. _

_His mother set her gaze upon him, and as he stared into the blue eyes so alike his own, she said, "There is only one Tree Hill... and it's your home."_

_The first tear rolled down his cheek, followed swiftly by the second, and as his mother drew him into a deep embrace, he took one last look over her shoulder of the place he was escaping._

He sighs bitterly at the memory. Part of him felt like a coward for running away all the time, never able to face his problems head on. Even if he were to stay, the situation was beyond fixing. He loved Lindsay. He also loved Peyton, but he didn't know if he was still _in love_ with Peyton. Lindsay didn't trust him now, and Lucas didn't blame her. He couldn't even trust himself. After all these years, he still couldn't make up his mind about who he wanted to be with.

He checks his watch, then glances behind him at the flight times. He had a little over a half hour left before his flight was due to leave. He reaches into his pocket and fingers his cell phone, wondering if he should take the trip alone or make the leap and invite someone to share in his misery.

He searches through his contacts, going back and fourth between Peyton and Lindsay. He took a deep breath and dialed Lindsay's number, knowing that it would go straight to voicemail. She hadn't answered any of his calls in weeks, and the only contact she'd make with him was to tell him that there was someone else.

"Hey Linds, it's me. Lucas. Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for everything that happened. I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I know that this apology is a little too late...that it's all just too late, but I wanted you to know that I never once doubted that my feelings for you were true. I'm sorry that other things got in the way of that."

He flips his phone shut and sits in silence for a few moments, agravated that the only thing he could give to the girl he loved was an apology. He stretches his legs out as his flight time flickered on the screen overhead. There wasn't much time left.

His toes touch against the side of his duffel bag. He'd only packed the bare essentials, not caring that there probably wasn't enough in there to last him for more than a week. Out of the corner of his eye, a small purple hand protruded from an unzippered part of his bag. A smile tugs at his lips as he bent to pull it free.

It was a small purple monkey, probably strange looking to anyone who didn't know the story behind it. His fingers caressed the soft fur that lined its stuffed body, and he thought of the girl who had given it to him.

He knew, in that moment, that there was only one person left that he could call.

-

She never expected to be alone in her life. There's that inescapable question, the one that the teachers in school ask you at least once every year. Where do you see yourself when you get older? Who will be with you? What will you be doing? Who will you _be?_

She never thought that her answer would be that she was alone. Brooke Davis, smart, beautiful, famous, and _alone. _

Her house is silent, and she waits and waits for the sound of a crying baby to fill the empty rooms, knowing that it will never come. In her hands is a picture of the little girl she'd grown to love in such a short period of time. It's creased and smeared in the places her tears had fallen, and she silently cursed herself for crying.

Her time spent with Angie had filled the void in her heart, but with the young girl gone just hours before, Brooke felt more alone than she had previously. She didn't want to believe in that depressing cliched line that Peyton always used. _People always leave._ But parts of her were beginning to think that her best friend's phrase was true.

Her phone vibrated on the table next to her, and without even looking to see who was calling, she flipped it open and pressed it to her ear.

"Do you want to get out of here?" a muffled voice asked.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and cleared her throat, but she knew that she shouldn't care how she sounded to him. He knew her already. He knew that she was broken, that she was lonely and pathetic. He knows more than anyone else that she's vulnerable.

_"I don't like you guys to see me like this...vulnerable," she whispered, slowly drawing her eyes up to meet his own._

_There was a smile hidden in his eyes as he threw his arm over the back of the couch, the tips of his fingers briefly touching her shoulder._

_"That's how I always see you, Brooke...and I think it's kinda beauitful," he replied, and the sincerity in his voice brought truth to his words._

"Luke, is that you?" she said, her voice cracking the slightest bit.

There was a long silence, and then finally, "Look, I know this is short notice, but I have two tickets to Las Vegas. The flight leaves in less that an hour."

She narrowed her eyes and waited to see if he would say anything else, but the silence only continued.

"Are you asking me to come with you?" she asked, reducing her voice to a whisper.

"The flights leaving soon. I'm...I'm by the boarding area. You don't have to come...I just, I had an extra ticket and I...I don't know. I'll wait for you if you're coming."

The line went dead, and for several seconds Brooke listened to the dial tone, confused over what had just happened. Had he called the right girl? She blinked several times, and checked the clock. His flight was now leaving in 20 minutes. She glanced at the worn picture in her lap, and a last tear found it's way down her cheek.

Suddenly, the prospect of leaving Tree Hill had never been more appealing.

-

She's running through the airport, hauling behind her the largest suitcase she could find in the short time she had to pack. It's filled with odds and ends, and although she can't actually recall if she packed the necessary things, she's happy that she managed to pack anything at all. In her mind, she can see all of those scenes from the movies, the ones where people are racing through an airport in a grand romantic gesture to catch the one's they love before they leave. There's nothing romantic about what she's doing right now. Her hairs a mess, her mascara is trailed down her cheeks in lines of black from crying for hours on end, and she's still wearing the wrinkled dress she had on hours earlier. But she doesn't care, because in spite of her spur of the moment decision making, and the fact that she hadn't taken more than a minute to think this all through, what she's doing right now feels _right._

And currently, that's all that matters.

He's the first person she sees when she finally reaches the boarding area. Even from far away, his haggard appearance is more than apparent. His eyes are bloodshot, and his outfit consists of a pair of old grey sweats and a slightly torn wife beater. He looks like a mess, and she wonders how he had managed to bring himself to this point from the short amount of time she had seen him last.

When Angie left, he had shown up at the airport, her knight in shining armor. He had seemed so pulled together then, but the distorted appearance of the man before her is nothing like what she's used to seeing.

He's fiddling nervously with something, and it takes her a minute to figure out what it is as she slowly walks up to him. In his hands is the purple monkey that she had bought for Angie, and he's holding on to it as if his life depended on it.

When she finally reaches him, there's 5 minutes to spare, and she marvels at her quickness in getting to the airport. He doesn't say a word when she approaches. He stares off into the distance, his eyes slightly glazed over, and she got the feeling that he wasn't really looking at anything.

She wordlessly drops down into the seat next to him, and he still doesn't show any signs of life.

"This is the last boarding call for flight 144, to Las Vegas, Nevada," an announcer calls.

"You shouldn't have come," he says, breaking the silence, and he casts his eyes down to stare at the purple stuffed animal sitting in his lap.

"Why?" she asks, not sure if she wants to know the answer. What if he had called the wrong person? What if this seat was intended for Lindsay, or Peyton, or some other girl in Lucas Scott's life that Brooke had yet to find out about?

"Because I hurt you, Brooke. I hurt you, and I hurt Peyton, and I hurt Lindsay. That's what I do. I hurt people," he answers. His voice is empty and monotonous, and as she stares at him, she knows that what he's saying is true. He did hurt her, but that was behind them. Far behind them.

"That's in the past, Luke," she says, his nickname easily rolling off her tongue.

He finally turned to look at her, and she sees the first hint of emotion in his broken eyes. "Are you coming with me?" he asks, and if she had any second thoughts before, she knew that they didn't matter. She couldn't say no to him, at least not in the state he was in now.

"Yeah," she whispers.

She gently pries the purple monkey from his grip and takes one of his hands into her own, giving it a soft squeeze.

He stands up then, pulling her up with him, and in one swift move he lifts her bag and his own and throws them over his shoulder. He sets off toward the plane hangar, and when she doesn't follow, he looks over his shoulder expectantly.

"Just one question, Lucas," she says.

He nods his head and waits, but she doesn't know what to say. She wants to ask him so many questions. She wants to know why it's her standing here with him right now. Her, a girl who was now no more than a friend to him, and not Peyton or Lindsay.

"Why me?" she whispers, and she knows the moment she's said it that she shouldn't have, because there's no way that she can block the memory she's having right now from entering her mind.

_The rain was pounding against the blacktop as she tore down the street, anger propelling her further and further away from the boy she loved. It was cold, and the constant rainfall didn't help matters, but she was numb at this point. All she wanted were answers from him._

_She whirled around and stared at him, her green eyes ignited with anger and emotion. _

_"Just tell me, why me?" she screamed, her hands flailing around her and the rain mixing with her tears, "Why me, this time, why not Peyton?"_

_"I can't say anything bad about Peyton," he answered helplessly. "She's my friend, and she's your best friend!"_

_But it wasn't enough. It wasn't the answer she was looking for._

_"That's ok, you can say bad things about her," she cried, not caring how stupid or cruel she sounded. _

_"Oh Brooke..." he said, shaking his head and staring up at the sky, searching for the right words to say. "The truth is, I care about Peyton."_

_"Then what is the difference!" she pleaded, hoping that he would say something, anything, to make this all okay again._

_"The difference?" he asked incredulously, as if she should have already known his answer._

_"The difference is I love you Brooke! I want to be with you, not Peyton."_

_"But why? I need to know why!" she shouted, her words filled with desparation._

_"Because...because you kink your eyebrow when you're trying to be cute. Because you quote Keimoo, even though I've never actually seen you read. And because you miss your parents, but you'll never, ever admit that! And because I've given exactly two of these embarassing speeches in my entire life, and they've both been with you. That's gotta mean something, right?" he shouted about the rainfall. "And because we're both going to get pneumonia," he continued, staring up into the rainy sky, "but if you need to hear why I love you, I can go on all night."_

She feels like their confrontation in the rain was just yesterday, but she knew that he probably had completely forgotten the entire conversation. It was in the past, where it belonged. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of them, like they had both turned to a blank page and were starting over. Their past was a different chapter, a different story. But she needed to know why, at this time, he had turned to her in his time of need.

He looks confused at her question, and as the people rush around him to get to their flights, he squints his eyes in that familiar way and shakes his head.

"I don't know, Brooke. I have no answers..." he says, and she nods her head. She understands, because she feels the same exact way. The only thing she was sure of right now was that she needed to leave Tree Hill.

She follows him down a hallway, and through a window she see's their plane in the airfield. He stops in his tracks and turns around so quickly that she almost bumps into him.

He opens his mouth as if he's about to say something, and then closes it again, and his eyes search her face intently. For a writer, Lucas Scott sure had trouble finding the right words.

"You save people, Brooke. It's what you do...and I think it's time that someone saves you for a change," he says, and then he raises the purple monkey that's still nestled between his fingers and hands it to her with a small smile.

"Okay," she answers, and without another word or a second thought, she follows him onto the plane.

To be continued...


	2. Where it all Went Wrong

So here's the second chapter. I have to admit, it starts out a little slow, but it gets better at the end! Thank you to those who reviewed. There's something that always gets me every time I see a new review I've received...it's so exciting, and I love to hear your feedback! Enjoy the chapter, and let me know what you think afterwards!

Disclaimer: I don't own One Tree Hill

**Chapter 2: Where it all Went Wrong**

A plane ride from Tree Hill, North Carolina, to Las Vegas, Nevada, takes approximately four hours and forty-three minutes. And for the past three of those hours, Brooke Davis has been sitting in silence, staring out the window at the rolling clouds surrounding her.

The feeling of being suspended in the air, thousands and thousands of feet over the ground, always unnerved her, so it's not surprising that when she looks out the window, she feels like she's going to throw up the three bags of airline peanuts she's eaten. But she's been doing it for the past three hours straight, because it's a better alternative than looking at the man sitting beside her.

He has the manuscript of his first novel sitting in his lap, the one that had been printed from his own computer before any of the others. She's lost track of how many times he's read it, start to finish, in the three hours that they've been sitting on this plane. His ipod earphones are jammed in his ears, and the volume is turned up to the highest point. She can hear mixes of music that she would never catch herself listening to, and automatically she knows that they're probably not songs he would ordinarily listen to either. It's Peyton's music, one of the million play lists she had made for him over the years.

Lucas had failed to look up from his book since they took their seats on the plane, nor had he made the effort to say a single word to her.

She's beginning to think that he's forgotten she's even there.

She knows that she should be hurt by the way that he's acting, and maybe even a bit angry, but the only thing that's really going through her mind right now is a sense of understanding.

She can tell by the look in his eyes, by the way they frantically search his book for the utterance of her best friend's name, by the way he plays particular songs that remind him of Peyton Sawyer over and over again on his ipod, and by the way he consistently checks his phone every fifteen minutes for a message from Lindsay that Lucas Scott is heartbroken.

Brooke understands, because she's been there before. She's been broken hearted, and she knows that feeling. The one where you feel like you're drowning, and you can't find the surface and for the longest time you simply want to give up, because it's so much easier than trying to pull yourself together again. She gets it, because after all these years, she knows that part of her had never recovered from the time when she had her heart broken. By him.

So she leaves him to his brooding and lets her thoughts take her away as she stares out the window at the sky.

It feels like only a second later when the pilot makes an announcement to the passengers.

"Our scheduled landing is in just under an hour folks, so sit tight till then."

Brooke looks over at Lucas, but she can't see his face because his head is ducked down, nose almost touching his manuscript as he studies it closely. His earphones are finally out of his ears, and she's guessing that the ipod filled with Peyton's music had finally died.

"The words aren't gonna change, Luke," she says quietly, and his head jerks up in surprise at the sound of her voice.

"What do you mean?" he asks, his eyebrows creased in confusion.

She sighs deeply and turns to look out the window again, unable to meet his empty gaze.

"You're reading your book over and over again like you think the words are going to change or something," she says, her eyes trained on the small amount of land she can see below them.

He answers her with silence, but after a few moments she hears him fold up the first draft of his novel and throw it into the carry on bag that's sitting at his feet.

"I guess I'm just looking for what went wrong," he finally offers, and she can easily detect the sound of defeat in his voice.

"What do you mean?" she questions, turning back to look into his eyes.

The moment she locks gazes with him, she can see the change in him. Eyes that were once soft and kind were now cold and remote, and the once inviting blue color had transformed into an icy stone glare.

He speaks slowly, softly, as if saying things too loud would trouble him even more. "I wrote the beginning of that book back in high school...and that's when all of this started. I must have made a mistake somewhere along the line, something that put me on the wrong course..." he mutters, and he narrows his eyes in confusion.

He's not making the slightest bit of sense, but she nods her head in understanding just to keep him talking.

"Things were different then, I guess. It was so easy to write that book because..." he stumbles for a moment and hesitates, unsure of how to explain, "because I was so happy, with Peyton, I guess... I mean you read the book, right? You know what I'm talking about. Everything has changed since then," he continues.

His question catches her off guard, and for a split second she almost tells the truth, but she stops herself right in time and nods her head vigorously.

"Of course," she says, plastering a smile on her face. "I read it start to finish."

But it's a lie. She didn't read it start to finish. In fact, she read one page. Five sentences. Forty-one words.

_"She was fiercely independent. Brooke Davis. Brilliant and beautiful and brave. In 2 years she had grown more than anyone I had ever known. Brooke Davis is going to change the world someday, and I'm not sure she even knows it."_

She hadn't gotten beyond that point, and it wasn't worth the pain to read a book that was basically a love letter to her best friend.

She can almost feel her stomach turn at the remembrance of the short passage he had written for her, and she silently scolds herself. It was years ago, and she was beyond all of that drama. She shouldn't care anymore about what he said about her then and how it had made her feel, because their relationship had long since changed.

"I just feel like if I read between the lines, I'll find where everything went wrong...I mean everything was so _right,"_ he mutters, and his eyes get that faraway look again as he speaks. "Things with Peyton, with Lindsay...where did it all go wrong?"

She opens her mouth to answer him, but her cell-phone rings and she quickly reaches into her purse to get it.

"Hello," she answers, bringing her phone up to her ear.

"Is this Miss Davis?" an unrecognizable voice questions.

"It is," Brooke replies hesitantly, wondering who she was speaking to.

"This is the agency calling, and we wanted to let you know that Angie's parents received her a few hours ago, and they said she was happy and so well-taken care of. Her next doctor appointment is in a few weeks, so they said they'd contact you and let you know how she's doing."

Hot tears sting Brooke's eyes as she thinks of the little girl she had to give up just hours before, but it feels like she hasn't seen her in a life-time.

"Thank you," Brooke answers, and she quickly flips her phone shut.

She'd thought that adopting a child, even for a short period of time, would fill that empty space that her money and her job couldn't seem to occupy. Angie had done just that, but now that she's gone, Brooke has that nagging feeling again. That feeling of being alone. She thinks of how she's gotten to this point in her life, and suddenly she understands what he's suggesting when he said that he was trying to figure out what went wrong. She's 22 years old, with a great job, great friends, and enough money to satisfy her for a lifetime. But she isn't _happy_, and as her glassy eyes stare into the icy blue ones of the boy sitting beside her, she repeats his question again in her head.

_Where did it all go wrong?_

_-_

By the time they land, the sun has set and is replaced with the entrancing lights of sin city. Bright neon lights, signs, and attractions decorated every inch of Las Vegas as Brooke and Lucas took a taxi down the main strip of hotels and casinos.

Brooke's window is rolled down, and she holds her hand out, letting the cool summer breeze flow through her fingers. She notices the fake eiffel tower up ahead, and she knows that it's probably the most cheesy and over-rated tourist attraction in all of Vegas, but she still smiles at the sight. She turns to see if Lucas has noticed it yet, but his head is leaned back against the seat, and he's not even bothering to take a look out the window.

"Do you guys have anywhere special you'd like to go, or do you want to just head down the strip and check out your options?" the taxi driver asks over his shoulder.

She turns to Lucas once again, wondering if his brilliant trip to go to Vegas had been planned out. But by the look on his face, she knows that he has no idea where to go or what to do.

"I'm sorry, I never really thought of where to stay," he stutters, and for a moment there's no difference between him and his five year old nephew. He looks like a little boy all over again, completely helpless.

Brooke doesn't miss the smirk that crosses over the cab drivers face in the rear-view mirror, and somewhere between the moment she handed Angie into the hands of perfect strangers and the four hour plane ride that passed by mostly in silence, she realizes that she's _tired_, and she wants nothing more than to plant herself on a cushioned mattress and take a long nap. So without hesitating, she says the first hotel name that comes to mind.

"Take us to the Bellagio, please," she orders, and the smirk on the cab driver's face disappears at the mention of the famous hotel's name.

It isn't until they pull up in front of the famous Bellagio fountains that Lucas finally looks up at his surroundings.

"The Bellagio, Brooke? Do you have any idea how expensive this place is?"

But she shrugs her shoulders and shoves her door open to step outside. Money doesn't matter to her anymore, in fact, it never did. Even when she used to cart around her father's credit cards, price tags and expensives went right over her head. She was Brooke Davis. Money was the least of her problems.

She threw a twenty at the driver and hauled her bag out of the car, setting off for the entrance with Lucas following slowly behind her.

When they enter the marble floored lobby, she marches her way to the check-in desk and shoves her black amex card at the lady behind the counter.

"Hello, ma'am, welcome to the Bellagio. How may I help you?" she asks politely.

She can feel Lucas hovering over her shoulder, and he grabs her arm and whispers quietly, "Brooke, I'm not sure if this place is such a good idea, I can't exactly afford it."

"Don't worry about it, Luke. It's on me. You can make up for it by providing me with gambling money, which means your pockets will be empty by tomorrow night."

She winks at him and smiles, but his emotionless expression is resolute as he shrugs his shoulders and mutters a quiet okay.

"Can we get a suite, please, preferably one near the spa?" Brooke asks.

A frown crosses the woman's face as she checks her computer, and when she looks up she shakes her head and says, "Sorry miss, the only available accommodations for tonight are the villas. They're on the north-west wing of the hotel, in a private area beyond the normal rooms. Most are two bedrooms, with a private kitchen and formal dining area, and a terrace and pool that overlook the famous Bellagio botanical gardens."

"Ok, that's fine," she says, won over the moment the woman said they would have their own private pool.

"It's 3,000 a night, but only 16,000 for a week. How long will you be staying with us?"

Brooke checks over her shoulder to see if Lucas has any idea how long they'll be staying, but he shakes his head and frowns, clearly upset that they couldn't stay somewhere a little less extravagant. As far as Brooke was concerned, they were in Las Vegas, and extravagance came with the name.

"Indefinitely," Brooke answers, and hands her credit card over.

After a few moments, the woman hands her a key. "Miss, would you and your husband like us to stock the bar for your stay?"

For reasons she cannot explain, Brooke's cheeks begin to burn, and it doesn't help when she can feel Lucas flinch beside her at the word "husband."

"Yes, please-"

But before she can finish, Lucas interrupts her, and for the first time all day she see's a hint of life behind his troubled eyes.

"We're not married," Lucas blurts out from behind her, and she doesn't understand why he can't just go along with it, like the night they did in New York.

"In fact," he says, his voice rising to a shout, "she's the only one I _haven't_ proposed to in the past 2 years! Isn't that funny?"

The woman's mouth slightly falls open, and everyone stops in the lobby to stare at them as Lucas's loud voice echoes off the high-ceilings.

Brooke swallows hard, pushing away her urge to slap him across the face and tell him to grow up. Instead, she takes his hand and pulls him back through the lobby, hoping that the bar will be stocked with every kind of alcohol imaginable by the time they get to the villa.

-

It's 11:00 P.M. in Las Vegas, Nevada, and the night is only beginning, but Lucas Scott wants nothing more but to go to sleep and not wake up for a few days. Maybe even a week.

He feels strange, staying in this fancy hotel, in a villa that's bigger than his own house. But Brooke has already made herself at home, and from his seat at the kitchen counter, he watches her sitting outside on the terrace, with the lavender backdrop of the night sky surrounding her. The lights are so bright in this city that it's almost blinding, and he's wondering if he should have gone somewhere quieter and less assuming.

The wind blows lazily through the open terrace doors and into the kitchen, and he watches her shiver slightly and fold her arms over her chest. The lights from the pool illuminate her pale skin, and the serene yet saddened look to her green eyes is easily distinguishable, and in that moment she appears the same way she has to him for years.

She looks vulnerable.

There's a feeling of protection that he considers he owes her, because for the longest time she had selflessly given up her own needs to help others.

She'd handed Peyton her entire future in funding her record label. She'd helped her friend Rachel in her time of need. She took in Angie and seen to it that a young girl whom she barely knew was given a chance in this world. She'd brought new meaning to the word "godmother" by caring for Nathan and Haley's son as if he were her own. For the life of him, Lucas can't remember the last time that she'd asked for or needed help. In fact, he can't remember, in the entire time he's known her, a circumstance when Brooke Davis had ever admitted to being weak.

But he's always been able to see right through the walls she builds and the facade of independence she's placed around herself.

He wants to help her through her problems, but already, he's gotten off to a bad start.

He can scarcely remember their conversation throughout the day, and part of him attributes this to the fact that they had barely talked at all.

He walks over to the fully stocked bar and grabs the first bottle of wine he see's, and searches the kitchen cabinets until he finds two crystal wine glasses. He fills each one up generously, and tries to push any thoughts of Peyton or Lindsay to the back of his mind.

She doesn't hear him coming, and when he walks to the edge of the pool and taps her on the shoulder, she jumps a bit in surprise.

"Luke! I thought you'd gone to bed," her raspy voice whispers, and he sits down next to her and lets his feet drop into the heated water.

"I thought we should commemorate our first night in Vegas with the Bellagio's finest glass of wine," he says with a warm smile, handing her over a glass.

She returns his smile, and together they take a sip of the wine, savoring the velvet grape taste.

"Look, Brooke, I just wanted to apologize if I've seemed a bit out of sorts all day-"

"Don't be," she interrupts, "I understand, Luke. You don't need to apologize."

He nods his head and swirls his feet in the water, and minutes of a comfortable silence follow. Being around her was easy and familiar, and he was glad that their friendship had grown so strong. There had been a time when Lucas was worried that he would never be able to be just friends with Brooke Davis, but now he realizes that it's not hard like he had once assumed it to be.

"I left Lindsay a message on her phone today," he comments, and an intense look enters his eyes at the mention of his ex-fiance. "She hasn't returned my calls in weeks, so I figured that I'd give it one last shot today. But I guess I should have said something else. Anything else," he took a sip of his wine, and turned to look at her.

"I mean, for a guy who wants to be a writer, there suddenly seemed like no words had ever been written. Like there was nothing I could say or do to change the fact that I'd hurt her. I couldn't fix it. But when someone tells you that there's someone else in their life, and that they can't possibly be with you because they think you're in love with another person...what do you tell them? What is there left to say?"

It's the most he's said to her all day. She sits quiet for a moment, debating on what she should say to him, and then her curiosity gets the best of her.

"What did you say to her? I mean, in your message...and all the other times you tried to talk to her. What did you tell her?" she asks quietly.

He takes another gulp of wine, and then he turns and his blue eyes connect with hers.

"I told her I was sorry."

She almost chokes on her wine, but she swallows the liquid before she has the chance. Her stomach drops, and she fights to retain her composure and conceal the fact that he'd just opened up a feeling of sorrow that she thought she'd gotten rid of long ago.

But despite her best efforts, her green eyes have betrayed her, and he catches her hurt expression before she has the chance to cover it up.

"What's wrong?" he questions, and his hardened eyes soften as he looks at her.

"Nothing," she lied.

His eyes narrow as he studies her, and the brooding gaze that has become his trademark over the years surfaces on his face.

"Is it something I've said?"

"No, it's just..." she stumbles over her words, and she reaches to tuck a peice of hair behind her ear. She casts her eyes to the ground, unable to meet his burning stare, and whispers, "It's just that you said the same thing to me once before."

At first he doesn't understand, and a moment of tortured silence follows, but when her shy green eyes finally look up to meet his stare, he understands. In a single second, what she's said falls into place in his mind, and he remembers. He remembers that there was once a time when things were different between them. He remembers what they _used_ to be.

_"I tried to call you," he said, trying to brush off the fact that his girlfriend had just walked in on him spending time with her best friend._

_The best friend that had kissed him behind her back._

_"You mean when you weren't hanging out with Peyton?" she snapped._

_"Come on, Brooke," he replied, tired of having the same fights with her over and over again. "You never called me back!"_

_"Now you know how I feel!" she shouted back, and the anger in her voice silenced him. _

_"Listen, I know that it's been difficult for you lately. Losing Keith. And your heart condition. And giving up basketball," she said._

_He sighed deeply and rolled his eyes, because he didn't want to have this discussion with her. He didn't want to talk about these things because it isn't necessary. He just wants to be with her and forget about his problems._

_But then she lowered her head and took a deep breath, and her raspy voice suddenly becomes much more serious. "I feel like I've been keeping you close to me to try to protect you from those things. Like I'm hanging onto the two of us for you, but not for me."_

_He blinked and leaned toward her, willing this discussion to be over, because it's taken a turn down a path that he doesn't want to go down. Her voice is too serious. Her eyes are filled with hurt, and there isn't any sign of her dimpled smile in her somber expression._

_He knew, in that second, that something was very wrong._

_He collapsed into his chair, not knowing what to say or what to do. "Look, I'm sorry I kissed Peyton," he said desperately. "I should have told you."_

_"It's not about that Luke," she cried. "It's not, I mean I thought that it was, but this is not about her," she said, moving to sit on the bed in front of him. _

_"This is about me," she continued, and her steady voice cracks as she speaks. _

_"I love you Lucas," and when she says it, a flash of hope enters his body. Maybe he was wrong, and this was just a serious conversation that would end shortly and everything would go back to normal._

_But then her next words shatter him. _

_"And I probably always will."_

_And he knew, then, that it was over._

_"We go days without having a meaningful conversation, and I used to miss you so much when that happened, but it never seemed like you missed me. And I guess because of it I stopped missing you."_

_The impact of her words is weighing him down, and he felt as if she had just placed a ton of bricks against his chest, because he could barely breath. His mouth opened, but no words came, and as she continued to speak, his thoughts scattered in a million directions. He didn't know what to say, what to do. His eyes desperately searched hers, trying to find an answer in her troubled gaze, but he was robbed of any words that would fix what she was saying. _

_"It shouldn't be like this, Luke."_

_He shook his head, and the only word that can roll of his lips is her name._

_"Brooke," he said, a quiet plea._

_"I'm sorry, Lucas, but I can't do this anymore."_

_Then she stopped speaking, and looked at him, and he knew that this was it. He had to say something, anything, to keep her from walking out that door. _

_She leaned in, and her smooth lips caressed the side of his forehead for a brief moment, and then she stood up and walked to his door. _

_"Brooke!" he said, and she whirled around, waiting for it. Waiting for the words that would make this right. _

_His bottom lip trembled, and as his mouth opened, he realized that there was nothing he could say. The girl he loved was leaving him. _

_"I'm sorry," he said, knowing the moment he uttered the words that they weren't it. Her eyes fell to the floor at his response._

_"Yeah," she whispered. "Me too."_

_And then she was gone._

He remembers sitting at his computer that night for hours, pouring his heart out and silently cursing himself for being able to say so much when it was all too late.

He locks eyes with her, and it's almost as if they've made a silent connection, because in a moment of recognition he see's the girl that she used to be to him.

Memories of the night that changed their relationship linger in the air, and suddenly Lucas has found his answer to his question.

_"I wrote the beginning of that book back in high school...and that's when all of this started. I must have made a mistake somewhere along the line, something that put me on the wrong course. I just feel like if I read between the lines, I'll find where everything went wrong...I mean everything was so right. Things with Peyton, with Lindsay...where did it all go wrong?" _

If they hadn't have broken up on that night, Lucas would never have gone back to Peyton. He would have stayed with Brooke, because regardless of the way he feels about her now, he loved her then, and he would have never gotten the chance to truly fall in love with Peyton. And if he had never fallen so hard for Peyton, things with Lindsay wouldn't have turned out so bad.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks him.

But he doesn't answer her, and instead he shrugs his shoulders and takes another sip of wine.

He's thinking that the night he broke up with Brooke Davis is the night it all went wrong.

* * *

Please review! Thanks for reading! Look for the next update soon.


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